


I Can Feel Your Heart Beating Under My Skin

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Consent Issues, Gross, Is This A Fix It Fic Or Make It Worse Fic, Literally Every Bodily Fluid Imaginable and Then Some, M/M, Monster Billy Hargrove, Monster Goo As Lube, Paralysis, Referenced Watersports, Spoilers, Steve Harrington is a Pervert, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Monster Billy corners Steve at the Starcourt Mall.Contains Season 3 Spoilers? Kind of?





	I Can Feel Your Heart Beating Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in an hour long fever dream because of an anon I got. I don’t remember anything about season 3. I don’t know where I am. This is disgusting. Like. Legit. So gross. You done been warned.

What it comes down to is Steve, cornered, bruised, bloody, like, having a hell of a day, and Billy Hargrove… possessed by a monster. Maybe he’s turned full monster? Or isn’t actually alive in there? Might be a zombie. It’s hard to tell. Probably better not to speculate. It seems like a dumb thing to be debating right before you die. 

Steve is definitely about to die. Billy with, black veins, and bloodshot eyes, battered because Steve hit him with a car like half an hour ago—has Steve pinned to the wall. By his throat. Not completely cutting off the air supply. But it seems imminent. 

Billy doesn’t squeeze down, though. Doesn’t choke him out. Doesn’t snap his neck. He’s just looking at Steve. Like he forgot what he was about to do. After chasing Steve down halfway across the mall, finally catching him and slamming him up against the wall he just. Stopped. 

“Um, Billy?” Steve’s voice is a little strained. He can’t see very well. Like one of his eyes is basically swelled shut. 

Billy does not respond. There’s just a vacant stare. 

“Would you wanna like… let me go? Maybe?”

It’s probably a stupid question. Stupid last words. But, Steve is kind of stupid. He knows that. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed to begin with and he’s gotten hit in the head a lot over the past couple years. Anything he says right now is bound to be pointless. So. 

“Harrington?” Billy’s brow creases. His eyes look a little less glazed over. 

“Uh, yeah buddy. It’s me. Your old pal Steve.”

“What… where are we?” 

Billy has not let him go. Steve tries to squirm a little. That makes Billy slam him against the wall again. Ouch. 

“We’re at the Starcourt. Date’s going pretty badly so far.” Steve wheezes a little. 

Billy blinks at him. Reaches up with his free hand. Touches Steve’s fucked eye. 

“Did I do that?” He almost sounds concerned. 

Steve can’t help thinking about the last time Billy gave him a black eye. At the Byers house, half a year ago. 

Then he can’t help thinking about the last time Billy touched his face so tenderly. Wasn’t that long ago. Two and a half weeks, but who’s counting?

Billy tends to run hot and cold. Climbing through Steve’s bedroom window on a Tuesday night. Laughing in his face because he dropped by the pool near the end of Billy’s shift to see if he wanted to hang out on Thursday. 

He wasn’t particularly concerned about not seeing Billy for a week or so. Then when it became apparent something was wrong. Well. Nobody else was really on board team _we should save Billy._ Like the kids stuck him in a sauna to try and sweat the monster out and didn’t even bother to say anything about it. Steve didn’t even find out about what was going on until today. 

What a fucking day it’s been. 

“Some Russians did a number on me. Long story.”

Billy’s grip loosens a little bit. His hand slides down to just rest on Steve’s chest. Maybe Steve’s not gonna die? It would be awesome to not die in his freaking Scoops uniform. 

“I…” Billy pauses. Shakes his head a little. Swallows hard like he’s trying to gulp down air. “You should get out of here. I’m dangerous.”

“Hadn’t noticed.” Steve offers his best winning smile. 

“No I’m—he’s gonna make me— _fuck.”_

Billy collapses onto the floor. Dry heaving. Puking up black goo. Holy shit. 

Before he can think it through, Steve’s on his knees next to Billy. He can’t do much to help. He’s just got a hand on Billy’s back. Trying to soothe him. 

It’s like holding Billy’s hair back at a party. While Billy is bitching in between bouts of puking. Saying that Steve has to get out of there, because what if someone finds them together? Steve gets it. Kind of. Neil is a real asshole. But it also seems weird to be worried about someone finding Steve taking care of a supremely fucked up kind of friend, when said kind of friend’s dick was in his mouth like an hour previously. 

Whatever. 

It’s sudden. Billy just kind of launches himself at Steve. Snarling. Steve is knocked to the floor. In the puddle of god knows what that Billy just spat up. Gross. This is so gross. 

Billy’s on top of him. Biting him. It’s not the sort of biting you do when you’re trying to rip somebody’s throat out. It’s the biting that happens when Billy’s got Steve pinned face down on the mattress. The biting that causes hickeys that last for weeks. 

Then Billy’s tongue is in his mouth. It tastes like _death._ Like overripe fruit and encroaching decay. It makes Steve dizzy. Like. He’s gonna be the one to throw up next. 

It doesn’t last long. Thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” Billy gasps. “I can’t… I don’t… I missed you.”

What? 

Steve would really appreciate some time to ponder his situation. But then Billy’s flipping him over onto his stomach. Steve is fucking covered in that black goo now. It’s doing weird things to his skin. It’s making him tingle all over? Like pins and needles tingle. Like his limbs are asleep. Oh fuck. 

Steve can’t move. He can’t even lift his head up now. His cheek is on the cold tile floor. Stuck in the slick. At least it’s not the fucked up cheek. That would probably hurt. 

So long ideas of escape. Not that he was gonna be able to outrun Billy anyway. The fact that he was caught is proof enough of that. He already ran as hard as he could and it wasn’t enough. 

The fact that he can’t struggle isn’t ideal. It at least removes the question of whether or not he even wants to. It’s still Billy in there. He’s pretty damn sure of it. This certainly seems like an effective way to keep Billy away from the kids. Hopefully also an effective way to stay alive. 

There’s another retching sound. Warm splatter across Steve’s back. Jesus Christ. 

At least it’s not discernibly food? It doesn’t even really smell that bad. Just kind of coppery. God. Is it blood? Is it the same black stuff that’s in Billy’s veins?

There’s a ripping sound. A brief pressure on Steve’s chest. His uniform is shredded. Like utterly gone. So that’s cool.

He can feel Billy’s weight settle on top of him. Billy’s skin is cold. Like Steve’s hands get cold after too many hours scooping ice cream, but far more disturbing. Billy’s biting him again. Hard enough to be concerning, but not to break skin. 

_“Mine.”_ Billy grunts. Barely audible. 

It could mean a lot of things. Could be Billy talking to the flayer. Declaring Steve will not be made a goo corpse. Could be that Billy’s about to make him a goo corpse. Could be that Billy just says shit like that when they’re fucking. 

_Yeah. Who’s my little bitch? You love this, don’t you, faggot?_

Well. OK. 

“Hey, Billy? If you’re gonna fuck me could you at least not do it dry? Like. I’ll suck on your fingers or something…”

Steve almost regrets mentioning it. Because there’s suddenly a slick finger pressing into him. He can’t be positive what made it slick. He just has a very good idea about it. And it’s an idea he wants out of his head immediately. 

“I’m sorry.” Billy mumbles again. Which is maybe only the second time Steve’s heard him say that. For any reason.

“It’s cool, man.” Steve tries to sound as nonchalant as he can. 

Like, maybe it’s not a concern Billy actually has right now. But Steve wants to put it out there. In case they both survive whatever apocalyptic bullshit happens tonight— he doesn’t wanna go through a thing where Billy does a bad job of half-apologizing for raping him and Steve has to admit that he was into it. 

Because, undeniably, this is kind of working for him. Steve likes most bodily fluids? Loves come. Loves to be covered in it. Likes when Billy slaps him and then spits on him. And one time Billy pissed on him? Like. Shoved him onto his knees in the backyard, whipped it out, and pissed all over his face. It was awesome. Regular puke–he’s probably still not about. But whatever this stuff is has the right consistency and level of dirty to be kinda OK with him.

There is something deeply wrong with him.

Billy shoves another two fingers into him. It doesn’t really hurt. Steve feels tingly on the inside now too. Relaxed, like the rest of his body is. And that’s a good thing. Because the fingers are gone, and Billy’s cock is sliding right on in. Steve moans. Because he’s a whore. And it feels good.

It feels so fucking good to be full again. Steve’s favorite thing in the world is probably being split open on a real big dick. Like? It’s awesome. Being stretched, and violated, and pleasured all at the same time. He’s greedy for it. Can’t get enough.

Billy’s growling. Pounding into him right away. Steve can’t move for a better angle. Doesn’t seem to matter. Billy’s gonna do what Billy’s gonna do. Steve’s gonna take it. Not that much different from a usual date night, honestly.

Weird black goo is choice lube, apparently. The filthy slick noises are intense. Billy’s fucking into him so smooth. Steve’s in hog heaven. Fully hard now. He’d be grinding against the tile floor like a desperate bitch if he could. Billy’s dragging against the sweet spot. Heating him up from the inside. 

_“Billy.”_ He doesn’t mean to sound so pathetic. Maybe under the circumstances, it can’t be helped. 

It throws gasoline on the fire though. Billy roars. Nails digging into Steve’s hips. Thrusting so hard and deep, like. If Steve were on his back he’d probably be able to see Billy’s dick, distending his stomach. Maybe not and he just likes that mental image. Either way. Yes.

He’s surprised when Billy actually gets a hand underneath him and touches his cock. It’s uncoordinated. Sloppy. But Billy’s hands are slippery, and they feel so good. Steve shudders. Fast approaching the drop of the roller coaster.

He’s really gonna come like this. Goddamn.

It hits him like a freight train. His cock twitches. Splattering jizz into the mess that’s already underneath him. The intense wave of pleasure rolls through him. He stops breathing for just a second. Billy’s still pounding him. Harsh as ever. Making all sorts of outright feral noises at this point. Steve’s oversensitive. It hurts. Probably not as much as it would under normal circumstances. With everything else that’s happened in the past day or so, like. It’s fine.

Billy screams. 

And then there’s another distant, far more monstrous scream. The lights flicker. Billy collapses. 

“Did you just come, or die?” Steve mumbles against the floor.

“Fuck.” Billy coughs. Rolls off him. He’s puking again. There seems to be a lot of it this time. There’s more screaming in the distance. Then silence.

Billy slumps next to Steve on the tile. Looking up at the ceiling. At least Steve’s facing him. The black is slowly draining from Billy’s veins. That’s probably a good sign, right?

“Did we just fuck the monster out of you?” Steve laughs. He can’t help it. He feels lost. And giddy. And like. What even is reality at this point?

“I don’t know…” Billy sounds breathless. “I don’t know. Jesus. It’s gone. It’s…”

He’s pushing Steve over onto his back. Kissing him again. He still tastes kind of gross. At least it’s now more like the coppery goo than anything. Billy could say something like _I’m so glad we’re both alive_ . He could say something like _I love you, thanks for saving me._

Instead he says. “Christ, I can’t believe you just let me do that. What the hell, Harrington?”

“As soon as I’m not paralyzed anymore, I’m going to slap you.”

“You’re paralyzed?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Uh… my bad?”

“Don’t worry about it. Though if you could maybe take me somewhere, or like, get me some clothes before anyone finds us, that would be ideal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Under My Skin" by Jukebox The Ghost. I'm on [tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/) if you wanna send me messages and experience regret.


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